The clock on the wall flickered past midnight, its soft ticking swallowed by the low hum of Scarlett's computer. The architecture studio was almost empty now, only the distant echo of footsteps and the faint sound of rain brushing against the tall windows. Her model glowed faintly under the desk lamp — wires, circuits, and sketches scattered like the inside of her mind.
Scarlett rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn. The data wasn't syncing properly. She'd been at it for hours, trying to calibrate the adaptive light system for her new prototype — the one she had boldly told Nicolas about. But nothing was working. Every time she looked at the empty space beside her, she thought of him — his calm voice, that piercing stare, the way he said "You have no idea what you're asking."
Her phone buzzed suddenly, breaking the silence.
Unknown Number: Still awake, Miss Rose?
Scarlett frowned. Her fingers hesitated before replying.
Scarlett: Who is this?
A few seconds passed. Then came the answer.
Unknown Number: Volkov. My assistant Matteo gave me your number. You said you needed help — I'm giving you a chance.
Scarlett's heartbeat stuttered. For a moment, she stared at the screen, unsure if it was real. Nicolas Volkov, texting her at midnight?
Scarlett: Now?
Volkov: Now.
Volkov: My private lab. Outside the city. Sardinia coast. Coordinates below.
Volkov: If you're serious about this project, prove it.
Her breath hitched. It was reckless — completely insane — but something in his message felt like a challenge she couldn't walk away from. Within an hour, she was on the road, rain splattering against the windshield as she followed the glowing route on her GPS toward the coast.
When she finally arrived, the sight took her breath away. The building wasn't a lab — it looked like something pulled from the future. Glass panels glowed softly under the moonlight, reflecting the restless sea beyond. Inside, faint lights pulsed like a heartbeat.
He was already there — Nicolas Volkov, standing near a holographic display that projected rotating structures in midair. The light caught the sharp lines of his face, the glint in his eyes. He didn't turn immediately, but his voice carried across the room.
"You actually came."
"I said I would," she replied, trying to sound steady.
He faced her then, a hint of something unreadable playing at his lips. "Most people don't take me at my word. Or show up at midnight alone."
Scarlett crossed her arms, half to hide the tremor in her fingers. "You said prove it. So here I am."
He took a slow step toward her — not threatening, but deliberate. The air between them tightened, heavy and electric. "You really are fearless," he murmured, eyes scanning her face. "Or maybe just reckless."
"I'll take that as a compliment," she said quietly.
Nicolas's lips curved faintly. "You shouldn't." His voice dropped lower, his accent thickening slightly. "You have no idea what kind of place this is, Scarlett."
He brushed past her to a nearby console, his hand brushing her arm — brief, accidental, but enough to make her pulse skip. "Come here," he ordered, glancing back.
She stepped beside him, eyes on the glowing projection of her design. He had already uploaded her blueprints — the ones she'd been working on alone. "How did you—"
"Matteo," he said simply. "He sent them when I asked. You said you needed help."
She turned toward him, confused. "Then why act so distant before?"
His eyes met hers, dark and steady. "Because I don't mix business with…" he paused, the corner of his mouth twitching, "…distraction."
Scarlett's breath caught. "And am I a distraction, Mr. Volkov?"
He leaned slightly closer — just enough for her to catch the faint scent of smoke and steel. "You have no idea," he whispered.
The words sent a shiver down her spine. Yet, even as her heart raced, she forced herself to focus. "So, what's your idea for improving the AI structure?" she asked, trying to sound professional.
He smirked, as if amused by her attempt to stay composed. "You'll see. But first—" His hand brushed against hers as he passed her a small, sleek device. "You're going to connect this to your system. It'll amplify the neural feedback loop. Faster learning, better adaptation."
Scarlett nodded, trying not to show how his nearness was affecting her. "Thank you," she murmured.
He stepped behind her this time, leaning close enough that his breath grazed her ear. "Don't thank me yet," he said softly. "If this works, you'll owe me more than words."
Scarlett froze, every nerve awake. She turned slightly, meeting his gaze. There was a faint glint of teasing danger there — cold, calculating, but undeniably magnetic.
"I don't owe anyone," she said quietly.
Nicolas's lips curved. "Then let's see how long that lasts."
Outside, thunder rolled across the sea. Inside the lab, the hum of machines grew louder as her system came to life — and in that low electric glow, Scarlett realized something she shouldn't have: Nicolas Volkov wasn't just helping her. He was testing her.
Testing how close she could get before she burned.